While I have it fresh in my mind, I'm going to tell you about a dream I had this morning:
It began as Uncharted 2 -- I was first dragged down a waterfall into an Italian city, where I was then assaulted by a chef with a meat cleaver. When I grabbed the weapon from him and slashed at his throat, nothing happened....like slicing through air. The chef growled, knocked me out, and I was captured. Next thing I knew, I was handcuffed, running around the city, wondering how and why I had broken free of the chef's culinary clutches. Then, I broke the steel prison around my wrists and decided to attend my dad's birthday party, which was conveniently going on in the vicinity at the time.
I sat down at a table next to my brother, and then a waiter showed up.
"What would you like to order?" he asked.
My brother and I looked around, but we couldn't find our menus. The waiter sighed with exhaustion and sat on a nearby chair, covering his face with his hands.
"It's been a long day..."
Out of nowhere, my aunt appeared in a black dress and looked strikingly similar to Sally Field (she actually does look like Sally Field in real life). She made a comment that subtly dissed my mom's weight, and then she trotted away. I got angry.
The dream falls into this horrific scenario where this party is transported into a basement/cellar combo with dim lights, but with a significant amount of people having a good time. I get up to get a drink, and that's when I encounter the moose.
It's instantly recognizable, but the red eyes and white fur are a little jarring. The moose turns to me and snorts -- the thing only has one antler jutting out the side of its nostril!
I run. I don't know why exactly, but I feel it's my job to protect the kids at the party, and that white beast potentially has some sort of hellish wrath up its sleeve that I don't want anyone to experience. When I get back to the room, everyone has cleared out except this one family: some parents and their two kids. The father tells me to get the hell out of there; the moose is coming! I don't want to leave the people, but I take his advice anyway. I hear the family's shrieks and screams as I run for my life.
One of the adjacent rooms is an old western saloon, and on a table, I pick up two fully-loaded revolvers. They feel good in my hands (even in the dream): heavy and firm. Around the next corner is Woody Harrelson, playing his character from No Country for Old Men, and next to him is his prostitute girlfriend. I draw my gun and Woody does the same. We both fire. The smoke clears. I see Woody collapsed on the floor.
His girlfriend also draws her gun, but I tell her, "No, you can't do that. It's against the rules." I point to Woody.
"He already shot."
She tries to fire anyway, but all she gets are clicks from the hammer hitting an empty cylinder.
And of course, with any strange dream, it concludes with a hot make-out session between me and a girl I knew from high school, who now smokes so much pot that she makes the guys from Half-Baked look normal (and if I made out with her now, I probably would contract some horrible, unknown, druggy disease. No offense, of course.).
And no, as a matter of fact, I am not on any drugs myself! Hooray for plain-ol' insanity!
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